


Nabokov

by nothingeverlost



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Play, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 14,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nabakov.  It was the name he had used in the letter, the simple code to weed out those that were wasting his time.</p>
<p>Daddydom AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Answering the Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This is about a dom/sub (D/s) relationship between Gold and Belle, specifically a daddydom and babygirl relationship. Sexual themes, D/s and light BDSM will play a part. Please be aware that it is adult in nature. It is consensual and Belle is of age, but if the idea of sexual partners referring to each other as daddy and little girl is a squick you might not want to read.

The bell ringing over the door of his shop told him that he had a visitor, but he wasn’t in a particular hurry. If they had an interest in any of his curios they would wait; otherwise there was little point in bothering. It took him another five minutes to finish up with the bookbinding, and a few minutes to put the supplies away, but he did not rush.

As he stood in the doorway that separated the shop from his workroom he could easily observe the customer before she noticed his presence. She wasn’t his usual type, too young to be a collector and too relaxed to be coming for a deal. She looked as if she should be in a classroom still, but he couldn’t imagine anyone would be playing truant to poke around a dusty shop.

“Can I help you?” He waited until her hand rested on a glass display case, not wanting to risk any of his treasures if she was startled. Her only reaction was to smile, her eyes sparkling. 

“Are you Mr. Gold?” Her brunette curls half hid her face, a pity, though he appreciated the fact that she wore very little makeup. His ex-wife had worn enough that it had turned him off anyone who used too many cosmetics.

“That’s what it says above the door.” He gestured in the general direction of the sign that hung above the shop just outside.

“I was hoping you’d be the one here today.” She came a step closer, her hand caressing the spine of a book that had been left out on the display case. She was careful, respectful of the book and that interested him. 

“Were you really, dearie?” He could mention that he was the only one that worked in the shop, so her chances of finding the shop open and him working were guaranteed, but he was more curious about why she was looking for him. 

“I know I could have replied by letter but that seemed so impersonal, and I thought it would be better to meet in person. This seemed to be a good place, something more public than your home which didn’t seem to be the safest idea for a first meeting but more private than a place like the diner.” Gold revised his first opinion about her being relaxed; she was brimming with nerves but seemed to have kept them well covered until now.

“Interesting logic but I’ve yet to understand what your point is, Ms…”

“Belle. It’s Belle French, Mr. Gold, and I came to ask you if you have any copies of Vladimir Nabokov. I’ve always wanted to read his work but I haven’t found a copy of my own yet.” She bit her lower lip with enough pressure that the skin turned pale, but her gaze did not waiver.

Nabakov. It was the name he had used in the letter, the simple code to weed out those that were wasting his time. Use Vladimir Nabokov as the subject of your reply, he had instructed. He hadn’t expected anyone to come looking for him in person. 

“I’ve found that there’s not many who appreciate Nabokov’s style. He can be rather difficult to understand.” Could a girl so young and innocent looking really understand what it was that he was asking for?

“I’m a good student and I love learning, especially when it’s something important to me.” Her finger touched the side of his hand, not even an inch of their skin making contact but it was enough.

“And this is important to you?” It had been years since he’d been in a relationship like the one he was seeking. Years since he’d been in any kind of relationship at all; he wasn’t sure what had spurred him into writing the letter in the first place. He’d half expected for it to go unanswered, and eventually forgotten. He certainly hadn’t expected her, though that hadn’t stopped him from writing up a contract. “The truth now, dearie. Nothing less will do.”

“Everything I know comes from books, Mr. Gold. I haven’t had the opportunity to really explore what it is that I want. This feels right I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since I read your letter, but I can’t promise…”

“No one is asking for a promise.” He couldn’t ask for forever, after all; he’d tried that once and it had failed. There were other requests that were far more realistic. “This is, as you pointed out earlier, a public place even if it isn’t frequented by a great number of people. If you’ve managed to ascertain that I’m not a threat physically I suggest that this is a conversation is better suited to tea at my home. You are free tomorrow at three?”

“I am. Should I bring anything?” The smile that broke out across her face, showing her teeth, made her look even younger. It would be a good idea to get a close look at her ID the following day, just to be certain that she wasn’t too young. There was a fine line between looking like a young girl and actually being one, and the idea of anyone younger than eighteen disgusted him.

“We will talk tomorrow, and nothing more. Bring your questions.” It was not the most traditional of relationships, but it was a potential relationship and he did not rush those.

“Yes sir,” she agreed softly. “Thank you, for being willing to at least talk to me. If I told anyone I know that I was interested in this they would think I’m odder than they already do.”

“I will answer anything I can, no matter what you decide.” In the end it would be her choice, he knew. He would not push her, but he was already wanting her. She was so eager to place, and so lovely to look at. “And Ms. French, you won’t wear jeans tomorrow. Slacks are acceptable, skirts are preferred. Understand?”

“I won’t wear jeans again, Mr. Gold. I promise.” When he was distracted by her hand covered his she leaned in to brush her lips against his cheek. “I look forward to tomorrow, and Nabokov.”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed with a nod, attempting to keep calm until she was gone. Other than the trembling of his hand, which he stilled by holding tightly to his cane, he did well enough.

Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.


	2. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like it says on the tin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of this written, and was contemplating pulling this together into something more multi-chapter, but it'll be ages before that happens. So this might be a bit out of order sometimes, but I figured more was better than nothing.

She waited three days before coming to the pawn shop. He’d told her so much, more than she’d ever guessed at being the part of a lifestyle that she was only beginning to understand. It had taken all of her free time to study the things they’d discussed.

It was the dreams that drove her to the shop.

"Papa." The word felt right, when she saw him. Moe French was her father but Gold was the one she wanted to be her papa.

"Sweetheart." His hand was soft against her cheek as he touched her, his lips a gentle caress.


	3. Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is upset and insecure.

She almost called him to cancel, the excuse on her lips as she played with the keys on her phone. It wouldn’t be a lie, if she said she was sick. She felt ill.

I don’t expect you to trust me, not all at once, but I ask that you try to remember that I want what’s best for you.

Belle slipped her phone back into her purse and decided to walk the half mile to Gold’s house. She hoped that it would help her to work off some of the things she was feeling, but it only allowed her more time to dwell on her thoughts without even the distraction of needing to pay attention to the road.

“I’m sorry, papa.” She used the key that he’d given her to let herself in, but he was waiting for her in the hallway when she arrived half an hour later than their agreed upon time. She hoped he hadn’t been standing there the entire time; it couldn’t be good for his leg even with the cane for support. The old injury he wouldn’t discuss always ached more at the end of the day.

“Something’s upset you.” He only rested a hand on her shoulder, but it was enough to have her poorly concealed emotions flooding to the surface, eyes growing damp.

“He had the rose bushes torn out.” It was all she could manage before leaning into him, the warmth of his solid chest against her cheek keeping her from crying. He smelled of spice and smoke, and held her without asking any questions. She wasn’t sure she had the words to explain what it had meant, to have visited her father and see the barren dirt where her mother’s favorite flowers had once been.

“Come with me.” He gave her a few minutes, doing nothing more than holding her. Before they left the hall he took her coat from her, hanging it up, and held out his hand. She took it without question, and was surprised when he let her to the library rather than the bedroom or even the dining room. She hadn’t been able to stomach eating with her father, but wasn’t hungry. Still, he didn’t know that.

“There’s a blanket in the ottoman, if you will,” he directed as he crouched before the TV. Belle took a moment to wipe her eyes with the heel of her palm before fetching the blanket. It was a dark blue, thick and soft against her skin. She imagined it would feel good against all of her skin, and wondered if that was what he had in mind.

“This one?” she asked, just to be certain. She was only just beginning to understand his home; there were so many little nooks and hiding places.

“That should do nicely. You’ll sit here I hope, sweetheart.” He settled onto the sofa and touched the seat next to him. She hurried to join him, at first where he’d pointed and then a moment later she dared to move closer, their thighs touching. His smile told her she’d done the right thing.

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young Prince lived in a shining castle.

“I believe you mentioned this was a favorite.” Belle let out a soft gasp as the movie her papa had selected began to play. She could have recited every line of the movie from heart, and there was a comfort in that. She wasn’t sure what she’d said, when mentioning the movie once, that he’d understood so completely. He used the blanket to cover them both, and it was his hand in her hair, combing her tress with his fingers, that soothed as well as the movie.

She woke up in the dimly lit room sometime after the movie ended, all signs of the headache that had been threatening gone. She didn’t remember moving to use his thigh as a pillow. She also wasn’t certain at which point she’d fallen asleep; she hadn’t with him before.

“My mother loved her roses. She used to tell me that the enchanted fairy had taken one of her blooms for the magic spell. I believed her.” It was a small confession, but even sharing that much of her mother was difficult. Belle never spoke of her, not since her father had stopped listening years ago.

It took all of her bravery to tell her papa. All of her trust to share that part of herself.

“As you should, sweetheart.” The back of his fingers caressed her cheek, and Belle let her eyes close again. For a moment she saw the dirt piles on either side of the door at her childhood home, but as he spoke to her in a low voice she remember the crimson roses of her childhood, the way they smelled and the softness of the petals against her skin.

She was able to smile.


	4. Night Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that same night

The door was open a crack, letting in just enough light to illuminate the room. He’d left on the hall light, it seemed. She didn’t remember him leaving, except for the brush of his lips against her forehead.

Belle wasn’t certain what had woken her, but her throat was parched. She was about to slip out of the bed when the faint light caught the edge of a glass of water, left on the bedside table. She drained half the cup before laying down.

Her father hadn’t cared, when she’d mourned the loss of the rose bushes her mother had planted. He’d spoken of needing to experiment with a new varietal, and not clinging to the past, and in the next breath had asked what she was making for dinner.

Papa had understood. She hadn’t even had to explain, but he’d understood and he’d taken care of her. For the first time in years she had someone she could trust.


	5. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt: Belle has, at the beginning, difficulties really getting into the whole relationship. But one day she is sick or she gets hurt in some small way and Gold's tender care finally lets her bring her guard down and embrace the whole idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t quite certain about this plot bunny, but all in all I’m happy with it. It does involve talk of menstruation and blood. And sex (not in detail) while menstruating. Just a head’s up.

“I just wanted to let you know that I can’t come over tonight.” It would have been easier to text him, but that seemed cowardly. Instead Belle stopped by his shop on his way home from class. All she really wanted was to go straight home, but she was supposed to go to papa’s for the evening.

“I’m certain you must have a good reason for canceling.” He was polishing something small and made of metal; she couldn’t tell what it was.

“I, um, don’t feel well.” 

“You’re ill?” It was only a moment before the item he held was on the counter and he was, instead, standing before her with a hand on her forehead. She remembered her mother doing that, when she was a child. Somehow it made her feel guilty.

“It’s not, I mean, I’m just…” It was so much easier just to say sick. Belle looked down at her shoes, certain that her cheeks were pink. “I started my period. It’s cramps.”

“Are they bad?” He did not pull away, or seem grossed out. Her father was barely able to talk about tampons, even when she’d been too young to buy her own, and her ex had avoided her like the plague when she was on her period. She hadn’t had the first idea of how to broach the subject, and it had caught her a few days early. 

“It’s just cramps,” she answered with a shrug.

“I would imagine there are times when that’s like saying Everest is just a hill.” His hand was gentle as it slid down her cheek, but firm as it pushed her chin back so she looked at him. “No lies between us, sweetheart, not even little ones. That’s the only way this works. How do you feel?”

“My stomach is upset and my lower back aches. And I’m tired.” she admitted. It seemed a weakness to tell him.

“Let’s get you home, then.” To her surprise he had the shop closed and locked up in a matter of minutes, and ushered her to his car before she could fully understand what was happening. She’d assumed that she’d been spending the next few nights at her own apartment; after all the main point of their relationship was sex and she certainly wasn’t in the mood. She never was, the first few days of her period. She just wanted to curl up and take a pill for the pain. It was strange that he took her to his house instead of just dropping her off.

“Would you be more comfortable on the sofa or the bed, sweetheart?” he asked when they were inside. His hand at the small of her back was warm and made her muscles feel a little better.

“Sofa, please. Maybe we could watch something? I don’t think I’m very good company tonight.” She rested her hand against her stomach, hating her own damn reproductive system. She’d been to the doctor about starting birth control both to try and minimize her cramps and for the more obvious reasons, but she hadn’t had a chance to fill the prescription yet.

“You’re never company, little one. I want you to feel at home here, not matter what.” His fingers caressed her cheek, and for a moment the pain was forgotten as she looked at him. It wasn’t the first time he’d said such a thing, and he hadn’t pushed her for sex ever, but it was the first time she really felt like he was honestly offering his sanctuary to her, Belle, not because of an agreement made or a balance of reciprocity but simply to be there for her.

“May I have an Ibuprofen, papa?” The brief distraction wasn’t enough to make her forgetting the tension in her stomach.

“I’d like to try something else, first, if you trust me.” He waited until she was laying down, legs tucked up in the most comfortable position she could find.

“I…” She looked at him, and his brown eyes were so gentle that she she nodded. “I do.”

“Close your eyes, and try to relax. I’m going to touch you, baby, but you don’t need to think about it. Just imagine that you’re in a warm and peaceful place.” Sometimes when she focused on his voice she could almost forget everything else. She’d never had a thing, specifically, about accents but his seemed to wrap around her like an embrace.

“This is a peaceful place. I like books, and the fire in the fireplace.” She could hear it crackle in the library fireplace. Though she was growing used to thinking of the room upstairs as hers, it was this room where she felt most comfortable. There were so many books it would take her years to read them all.

“We may sit in our library, and yet, be in all corners of the earth.” She knew from the shift in his voice that he was quoting. She would have to ask him who from, later. The warmth and his touch was making her sleepy; his fingers worked firmly against the knot in her lower back. When he touched her thigh she assumed that he would massage her there as well.

His hand moved higher, slipping under her skirt. “Papa?”

“Sometimes the best way to relieve tension is to cause more, sweetheart.” When he touched her panties she tried to move away, but he was patient, stroking her thigh until she began to relax.

“You don’t think it’s gross?” She had only just started her period; it was light yet, more pain than blood. But she didn’t understand why he would want to touch her at all. “I feel gross.”

“It’s you, my darling, and nothing about you is gross. If you want me to stop I will, but I think this will make you feel better.” His lips brushed against her cheek. His touch was a comfort; she almost asked if he would lay down with her and hold her, but that seemed selfish.

“I trust you,” she reiterated, loosening her muscles and shifting so there was space between her legs. It was hard not to wince when his fingers slipped inside of her and she knew the slippery feeling wasn’t about desiring him.

“Sometimes when I work on a watch or a clock the springs are worked so tight that they might snap if I tried to undo them. But springs are resilient and if I turn the key just a little farther they will bounce back on their own. Your body is tense, love, and the best way I know to make it more tense is just like this.” His fingers curled inside of her, working with an even rhythm that didn’t seem to accomplish anything until it suddenly did. The orgasm surprised her, making her gasp, her eyes opening wide.

The pain was gone. “How did you know that?”

“Magic, sweetheart,” he answered with a low chuckle. “Now rest here. I’m going to go make some cocoa and get a hot water bottle. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, papa.” She watched as he left, holding his hand carefully so he didn’t touch anything. A moment later she heard the sink in the kitchen running. It wasn’t until a few minutes had passed without any discernible noise that she realized she was straining to hear him returning. She wanted her papa. When he came she was glad of the hot drink and the water bottle, but what mattered most was that he was near. 

She reached out and took his hand.


	6. Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He buys her a gift

“Are you still waiting?” It was a pointless question; she’d only been in the bathroom for five minutes and he wasn’t likely to slip away when she was changing into the gift he’d brought home, not when it was pink and sheer and really as much for him as it was for her. Perhaps more his own gift, if he was honest, but when it had arrived at the shop the other day he’d known that it would not be something he sold. The delicate lace and vintage silk had required special cleaning and a little repair, but it had been worth it to see how her face had lit up.

“I’m still here, sweetheart.” He sat on the edge of the bed in what he privately called the playroom, though he’d never given it a name. Unlike the dark colors and antiques in the rest of his home, the bedroom across the hall from his own was pale blue and white, with a four poster bed any girl might have dreamed of as a child, a walk in closet and a connecting bath that was actually larger than the one in his room. He particularly liked the large bathtub complete with jets, but at the moment the bathroom was only an annoyance as it kept him separated from his little girl. “Will I be seeing you anytime tonight, my slow little snail?”

“Patience, papa. The tortoise was the one to win the race, remember.” She was laughing when she pushed the door between the bathroom and bedroom open. He forgot all about the speed of any animal or the point of any race unless it was the one that brought her closer to the bed. She’d pulled her hair into pigtails while she’d been changing and had accessorized the baby doll nightie that barely hid her panties with a pair of cream lace stockings that only reached mid-thigh. The expanse of milky white skin between the lace and silk made his fingers itch to touch. “Do you like?”

“I might need a closer inspection before I can answer that.” There was no question of how perfect she looked, but then he always thought that she looked perfect. If there was anything better than Belle wearing silk and lace it was Belle wearing nothing, something that he planned to enjoy seeing soon.

“Closer like this?” Her hands on his shoulders supported her as she straddled his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. The nightie, already short, rode up enough that when he looked down he realized he had been wrong about it being long enough to cover her panties. She wasn’t wearing any.

“Fuck.” Just thinking about her dressing for him had him half hard, but knowing that the only thing separating them with his own pants had the blood rushing to his lap.

“Oh, that’s a bad word.” The fingers that covered his girl’s mouth did nothing to hide her grin.

“Sometimes, sweetheart, bad words have a proper time and place to be used.” 

“And this is a proper time?” When she tilted her head to the side the ends of her pigtail brushed against her neck. He couldn’t resist covering the strands with his hand, feeling her pulse against his palm.

“It’s a very proper time, babygirl. Do you want to try?” Just the idea had him hard, those lip gloss painted lips forming such a word; he’d yet to hear Belle swear.

“Fuck,” she said, barely a whisper as if it was a secret.

“I couldn’t hear you.” The material of her nightie was slick under his fingers as he moved his hand down her chest. the lace hem of the nightie ended just below her navel.

“Fuck?” It was louder this time, the word making his gut tighten. Her lower lip trembled as she spoke, and he drew it into his mouth. She tasted of strawberries and mint.

“How does it make you feel, sweetheart?” Her lipgloss covered his own lips now; he slowly licked it away.

“Sometimes in my books it talks about making love, slow and tender. But fucking is different, isn’t it papa? Do you still love someone if what you want is fucking?” He could see the honest curiosity in her eyes, questions asked and those only hinted at when it came to sex and emotions.

“There’s many ways to love, little one. Some people fuck just to fuck, but some want to be completely consumed by what they love.” They had spoken of boundaries and desires, sex and even friendship, but they hadn’t spoken of love. Not yet. he wasn’t sure that either of them were ready for it.

Belle only nodded as her hand slid over her stomach and tugged up the silk until it gathered under her breasts. “Will you show me what fucking is like, papa? I need to understand.”

“I’ll teach you anything you want to know, my darling Belle.”


	7. Self Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lesson in touch

“Will you pick out my pajamas tonight, papa?” Belle looked at him through the reflection of the glass as he brushed her hair, wet from her bath. His shirt was rolled up past his elbows to avoid getting too wet, but other than that he was dressed, a contrast to her own nudity. 

“Perhaps later.” The corner of his mouth turned up, just a twitch but she knew what it meant. Her papa already had plans for the evening.

“Thank you for my bath. I love the way the new soap makes my skin smell.” She turned when he was done and kissed his cheek; the warmth and his comforting touch had left her feeling relaxed so she lingered against him, nose nuzzling the side of his neck.

“Are you sleeping, darling?” His fingers were light against her back, but there was a roughness from the calluses that made her itch and feel anything but tired. She shook her head.

“I’m not ready for bedtime yet.”

“But I think you’re ready for bed.” She knew better than to argue with him, but she wouldn’t want to; his plans for bed might be anything from a massage to hours of sex, but she trusted him. It was either something she wanted or something she needed. Belle shivered, as much from the anticipation as the slight chill in the room.

“Cold?” he pulled back the blankets for her and turned on the bedside lamp, the warm glow the only illumination in the room. When he sat on the other side of the bed he was half in shadow. She could tell that he was watching her, though, even if there hadn’t been any light in the room. He was always watching her. 

“Only a little, because of my hair.” It fanned out on the pillow to give it a better chance to dry. Sometimes he blew it dry for her, and teased her with the hot air. She liked those nights.

“We’d better find a way to warm you up then, sweetheart. What do you think?” He stayed perfectly still. Belle looked up at him, trying to guess what answer he wanted before shaking her head. The only answer she could give was how she felt, not how she thought he might want her to feel.

“I like it when you touch me, papa. It makes me feel warm.” It made her feel like she was more than warm; she’d enjoyed sex before, but it was never something that burning in her like it was when she was here in the pink house. It was so much more than she’d expected when she’d read the letter.

“Show me what you like, little one.” She nodded and tried to reach for his hand, but he remained stubbornly still. Her skin ached for his touch, but not even the barest brush of his pants against her skin offered relief.

“I don’t understand.”

“Show me just how you like papa to touch you.” For just the barest moment his hand was on hers, and then he once again rested his hands on his lap. He had guided her hand to her own breast, though, and Belle understood. She had to giggle a little.

“Like this?” It was hardly the first time she’d touched herself, but it was the first time he had watched her. Gus, her high school boyfriend, had seemed to take it as a personal affront when she’d mentioned masturbation but her papa only looked at her with approval as she rubbed her breast with her hand.

“Just like that, darling. Look how your nipple gets hard from your touch just like it would if it was my fingers.”

“Your hands are bigger.” He wasn’t much taller than her, only a few inches, but he was bigger. Stronger, too, she’d learned the first time he’d carried her across the room.

“Your hands are softer. Feel them, baby girl, as they tease those delightful rosy buds. Almost like silk, or flower petals.” Her eyes fluttered closed, the better to hear his voice and feel the touch that she could almost imagine to be his own.

“I like your touch better, papa. I like your hands and how gentle they are when you tuck me into bed at night.” It had been strange, at first, that the first time she’d spent the night it had been nothing more than his gentle hands on her shoulders and a kiss to her forehead. They hadn’t even shared a bed. She hadn’t really understood, until then, the complexity of the relationship she’d craved.

“Maybe if you’re a good girl and do everything papa tells you there will be a reward.” A reward for both of them, belle knew, when she opened her eyes and glanced down at his lap. He wanted her, but he was a patient man. Very patient, a lesson Belle needed to learn.

“I can be a good girl,” she promised.

“You’re always my good little girl, sweetheart, no matter what.” His words were as solid as a caress, and Belle smiled. She made him happy, and that was becoming so important to her. “What do you wish papa was doing right now?”

“Touching me,” she answered without thinking.

“Touching you where?” The mattress dipped as he leaned the the side, his hand almost touching her leg.

“Everywhere. Anywhere.” Her hand moved more frantically against her breast, tweaking one nipple between her fingers. Not for the first time she wondered if he could get him off with just his voice. Maybe she would ask him one night to try.

“I think you know what you really want, baby. Not your breasts or your stomach, not your legs or throat. What do you want?” He looked at her and she couldn’t look away.

“My cunt, papa. I want your fingers as deep inside me as they can reach. I need it, really really bad.” She wasn’t used to talking about it, even less than she was used to having someone watch her.

“Show me, darling. Show me what it looks like when you use your fingers and pretend that it’s papa touching you. You do that sometimes, don’t you, when you’re alone?”

“Is it okay if I do?” Her hand between her legs was both relieve and torture. She was so wet, her fingers too soft and struggling to create friction.

“Next time you’re going to ask me if you can. I want to know.” Belle nodded, too caught up in the feeling to articulate her promise.

“Let me see you, baby. Spread your legs wider. You’re so beautiful, my Belle. I want to see.”

“Beautiful?” She glanced down, but saw the same thing she always did, her own hand and the thick brown curls.

“The most beautiful thing there ever was. Make yourself come, sweetheart. Your pleasure makes papa happy.”

“You make me happy, papa.” She came quickly, even her body obeying him, and bit her lip to keep from making too much noise. “Was I a good girl?”

“Very good.” He licked her fingers clean and she almost came again just from watching. She knew it wouldn’t be too long, though, before she really did. He guided her hand to his belt and nodded, letting her know she could help him undress.

She did so love to help get him out of his clothes.


	8. Clumsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was an accident

It was an accident. Belle had only been trying to get everything ready, and had been in too much of a rush. She turned too quickly and fumbled the tea cup, catching it before it fell but wincing as it hit the edge of the table.

"It’s chipped." Tears welled up in her eyes. She’d broken a few of her own things, but never Papa’s. Never a cup that was part of a set that was all now flawed because of that one chip. "I’m sorry, papa."

"It’s just a cup, little one." It wasn’t until he touched a finger to her chin that she looked up and saw that not only had she chipped the cup but she’d gotten tea all over his tie.

"I’m so clumsy, I make everything worse." She tried to turn to get a napkin, but he held her firm.

"You make a great many things better, sweetheart. Everyone has small accidents and that’s all this is. Run up to my room and get a new tie, and come back with a smile for your papa, alright? I hate to leave for work thinking my girl is sad."

"Any tie I want?" He was so precise, all the time, in how he dressed. She would have to be careful to find the right one.

"I trust you you."


	9. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of them is leery of thunder.

They were pulling up to the house when the first clap of thunder sounded. Belle stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared up, waiting for the light to dance across the sky. Water drenched her, but she didn’t care; it was only water, and once inside she could change. It was the first thunderstorm in months and she wanted to enjoy it.

It wasn’t until the third boom of thunder faded that it occurred to her that she’d heard no other noise, only the rain against hard surfaces and the thunder in the air. She turned and found her papa standing on the porch watching her. It was a common enough occurrence that she didn’t think about it except to wonder if he would rather watch the way the pale shirt clung to her or if he wanted her to join him. And then she noticed his hand, tight against the porch banister. She looked closed and noted the vain at the side of his neck, standing out clearly.

The next time the lightning struck he flinched.

“Do you think the rain will make me grow bigger like it helps the flowers grow?” She raced up the front steps and threw herself at him, careful not to throw him off balance but making sure to get his shirt wet; distraction was her main goal.

“I think you’re just the right size, sweetheart.” She could feel the tension in his frame as the thunder rumbled around them. Carefully she slipped his keys from his hand and skipped over to the front door. One more strike of lightning and they were inside.

“My clothes are all wet, papa. Can I do laundry?” She only earned a distracted nod, but she only needed his permission. Within seconds she had stripped off all of her clothes and stood in the hallway naked and damp. 

“I’ll be in the laundry room, okay?” It took him a minute to follow her; by then she was leaning over the washing machine. From the noise he made she knew it wouldn’t be hard to distract him from the rest of the storm.


	10. Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's bad habit

It was strange, how swift and silent he could move with the cane. One moment she was walking and the next she was pinned against the brick wall, her book on the ground and her cheek against the rough material 

"Papa," she said in relief when she saw that it was him, the ring on the hand that pinned her easily identifiable.

"No speaking." He did not touch her mouth, not with his hand or with a gag, but she knew better than to disobey. "I’m upset with you, little one. Do you know why?"  
Belle bit her lower lip and shook her head. She wasn’t late; even now it was another ten minutes until she was supposed to meet him.

"I’ve been watching you. You’re so absorbed in your book that you don’t know what’s happening around you. What would you do if I was another man? What if I had dragged you into a dark place and my intentions were selfish?" He waited for a moment. "You may speak."

"People don’t usually come down here." It was a small town, not a city. She’s never thought about it.

"It only takes one time. One person to change things. Anyone could be waiting in a dark alley, and anyone could do what they wanted to you. Could you run, little one?" 

Belle tried to squirm, but only managed to rub the wall against her chest and feel him against her back. ”No, papa. I’m sorry.”

"I don’t want anything to happen to you, sweetheart. I want you to think about where you are and to be aware of everything around you. I want you safe."

"I’ll pay attention now, papa. I promise." She was aware of her surroundings now, and just how hard he was against her. "I don’t want anyone except for you to touch me."

"No one will, sweetheart. You’re mine and I’d hurt anyone who tried." He liked for her to wear skirts, most of the time. Today it was short and black, and didn’t take any effort spread her legs and show him how welcome he was.

"Will you touch me now?" she asked softly, waiting to see what he said. When his hand slipped under her shirt she had her answer.


	11. Odd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle finds refuge.

It wasn’t often that he could say that he hated his job; the shop was relatively quiet most of the time and he liked restoring the things that found their way to him. There’s were times, though, when people refused to understand what ‘pawning’ meant, and somehow seemed to think that he owed them. He did not seek out people; they brought their positions to him and if a woman could not afford to buy back her father’s watch he was not to blame. 

She’d spent an hour sobbing and begging before he’d told her to leave or he would have to call the sheriff. it was well past the time he’d promised to meet his girl at the house, and spending time with his little one was much more interesting than the tear soaked blond who was in debt.

“Belle?” The table was set, so he knew that she’d let herself in. Something smelled delicious, and by the looks of the clay pot on the stove he guessed that she’d arrived early to cook a meal for them. he hoped his timing hadn’t ruined anything.

“Sweetheart? Papa’s home.” He frowned when she didn’t answer. Perhaps she was in the back yard, or her room. He would check both once he changed into something more comfortable. When he opened his bedroom door, however, he found that wasn’t necessary. Belle was curled up in the corner of his bed, one of his shirts clutched in her hand.

“It smells like you.” He thought she was perhaps asleep until she spoke. As he sat on the edge of the bed she pulled the shirt to her face and breathed in deeply. “I missed you today.”

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” He brushed her hair to the side, tucking it behind her ear so he could better see her face.

“Sometimes I feel lonely, like no one understands me. Or wants to.” She hid her face in his shirt. “Do you think I’m odd, papa?”

“I think you’re perfect, little one.” He tugged at the shirt, tossing it on the ground, and ran his thumb lightly over her lip. “I think anyone who doesn’t want to learn who you really are is suffering a great loss, but their loss is my gain. I want to understand you, Belle. I want to know what you think and why your heart beats.”

He kissed her forehead first, and then her throat. After undoing a few buttons he was able to kiss right above her heart.

“I made dinner,” Belle commented, a little of the sadness gone from her eyes.

“I hope it can wait a little longer. I want to _know_ you.”


	12. Victoria's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bra shopping

“No, not the black.” He took it from her, hanging it back on the rack and handed her three others instead.

“I thought it might be nice under that black blouse I have. You know, the one that goes with my plaid skirt?” Said skirt had arrived in the mail a week ago, and he’d been very sincere in his flattery when she’d worn in for him.

“It’s too harsh. Perhaps one with a pattern or some lace, but not the solid black. A bra should shape your breasts, not draw attention away from them. You need something more complementary.” They’d only been in the shop for ten minutes, but he carried half a dozen bras with him already, mostly in pale shades but there was a fire engine red and a sapphire blue. A glance at the tags told her they were all the right size.

“I don’t remember telling you my size, papa.” Belle tried to avoid the need to glance around them. it was rare enough that they were together in such a public place, and it had only been the last few times that she’d dared to address him as papa. Being in a bra store, a place she’d never been with a man, made it stranger.

“I’ve held your breasts in my hands and suckled them with my mouth, little one. I know them intimately. Figuring out the size was not difficult.” She was certain that when his hand brushed against the side of her breast as he reached past her to pick up a bra of translucent while it was not an accident. She had to close her eyes and take a breath to keep from shivering.

“I like the gray pinstripe.” It was the first bra she could focus on, but she was relieved to see that it was one she liked; there was a hint of pink lace and a satin bow where the two cups were joined.

“It reminds me of a suit coat a naughty girl borrowed once.” He only raised his eyebrow, but Belle felt her cheeks growing warm at the memory. The first time she’d ever gone into her papa’s closet it had been to take his coat and come downstairs in nothing but it and a pair of panties. She’d been scolded for not asking first, but it had also been only moments until the panties were taken from her. The coat she’d kept on the whole time.

Her papa added the gray pinstripes to the pile.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” she promised once they’d gathered a dozen bras. Papa had liked the black and white polka dot one she’d found, but had vetoed the cheetah spots and the nude one that had promised to make the wearer look two cup sizes bigger. 

Belle was in the dressing room for less than a minute when the curtain was brushed to the side. She had her arms crossed in front of her before realizing that it was her papa in the doorway. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“But I am.” He slid the curtain closed again and nodded to the bra she held tightly in one hand. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

“I love the color.” The red satin was on top of the pile, the bold color making her smile. She could feel sexy in red satin.

“Too much of a distraction.” He shook his head. “The blue lace one next.”

“Better?” But he shook his head and gestured for her to try again. Four of the bras were quickly rejected before she tried on the sapphire blue with tiny silver stones along the top.

“Yes. Do you see the difference between this and the others?” He smiled at her through the reflection in the mirror.

“Is it the color?” She’d never spent a lot of time thinking about bras. It hadn’t been until eighth grade that she’d even needed one, and she’d never had anyone to take her bra shopping.

“Turn to your side and look in the mirror, darling. Look at how perfectly your breasts are supported and shaped. It does not try to force you to look different, but only to reveal the beautiful form that already exists.” From behind he rested a hand on her shoulder, letting it drift slowly down the strap. His thumb slipped between her cleavage as he shaped his finger around her breast, palm against her nipple. “The others so far are functional but they do not enhance. This one is a start. Now the next.”

“Not this one,” she said as she tried on a pink one. The polka dots were a yes, as well as the pinstripes and two others.

“Which ones do you like best, papa?” She had them sorted, four of the five they’d liked on one hook, the other seven separate. She still wore the sheer white.

“We’ll take all five. You need them, sweetheart. I don’t like the fabric or the fit of most of the ones you have already.”

“But papa…” She meant to protest until a salesperson called out, asking if she needed anything.

“Thank you, but I’m almost done. I think I’ve found everything. They’re very beautiful.” She held her breath until the woman was gone; the curtain didn’t quite reach the ground but either the woman didn’t notice the second pair of feet or it was a common enough occurrence that she didn’t comment.

“You don’t have to buy them all.” She reached behind to undo the clasp, but he was there first, fingers tickling her back.

“You might get the most practical use out of them, but I think I’m the one that enjoys them the most, or at least taking them off you.” The fabric fell away from her breasts and down her arm. She meant to catch it before it fell to the ground, but knowing that he was watching her had her distracted. When she bent to pick it up Belle made the mistake of glancing in the mirror. Her stomach rolled over the edge of her skirt’s waistband and her breasts without a bra looked strange. Her nose wrinkled and she was quick to stand up.

Not quick enough to avoid being noticed by papa, though. “I should get dressed.”

“Not yet. Look in the mirror again, little one.” He took the bra from her, hanging it with the others they were going to buy.

“Someone else might be needing the dressing room.” She wore a tweed skirt, nylons and flats but from the waist up she was nude. She’d been able to focus more on the bras than herself, but now that thin barrier was gone.

“They’ll have to wait until we’re done with the room. Tell me what you see in the mirror,” he ordered, a hand on each of her hips.

“You and me, papa.” It was easier to look at his eyes in the reflection.

“And now, sweetheart? What do you see now?” His hand cupped her breast, the other splayed against her belly.

“Still you, papa,” she answered honestly. She was fascinated by his hands; sometimes she just watched them as he moved around his home or the shop. They were so expressive.

“Would you like to know what I see?” She knew it wasn’t a true question, and nodded. “I see my beautiful Belle. I see pale skin that I like to touch as often as I can, and a body that I like to devote my time to understanding. You are beautiful and perfect. You are the one that I want, looking just like you do.” 

“Do you ever wish my breast were bigger? My friend…”

“They fit in my hand and my mouth, darling. Why would I need anything more than that?” His thumb brushed against her nipple. Belle watched in the mirror as it hardened. She watched, too, as he pulled his hands away and the only thing to look at was herself. “I want you to look in the mirror and say three times ‘I’m beautiful’ and then you can get dressed and come out.”

“Yes papa,” she promised as she looked in the mirror, watching him leave through the curtain. She tried to imagine who she looked through his eyes, but only say the same Belle she always say in the mirror. Still, papa wanted her to obey. Belle took a breath; she would have to follow on blind faith for today. “I’m beautiful.”

"Good girl," he said when she’d told him of the promise kept when they got home. His hands cupped her neck as he kissed her. "Now why don’t you run upstairs and change into one of your new bras to model for papa. There’s a little something else in there as well."

"Thank you, papa." The something else happened to be a pair of panties with bows on the back. They stayed on almost half an hour before papa took them off.


	13. Letter to Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hasn't written to Santa in years.

She hadn’t written a letter to Santa in years, not since she was eleven or so and her dearest wish was a complete set of the Narnia stories. Visits to Santa were for children, and she’s stopped going after grade school. By then she knew that it was her parents who had bought the presents and filled the red and green stripped stocking.

After her mama had died there had still been presents, all labeled from her dad, but there hadn’t been a stocking.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" She was busy at work, using her best penmanship to write out the letter when her papa found her. She looked up over her shoulder; Papa seemed so tall from where she was laying on the ground. Ever since they’d put up the tree laying on the floor had been her favorite place in the evening hours.

"Writing to Santa. Do you think I’ve been a good enough girl this year to ask for presents?" She’d picked out her own, the last few years, her dad’s presents usually being gift cards since he didn’t know what she might like.

"Why don’t you read me the letter and I’ll see which list you might fit on." He grinned at her as he settled on the wide leather chair set beside the tree. It was big enough that they could both fit, but Belle chose to sit at his feet, a hand on his knee.

"Dear Santa," Belle wrinkled her nose, wondering if she should really read it. There was no such thing as Santa, and if anyone bought anything off her list it would be her papa. She wondered if it was selfish to read it to him.

"A good beginning, little one." His hand resting on her hair was enough reassurance to continue.

"I’m sorry I haven’t written to you since I was a child. I think I forgot, as I grew older, what a magical time Christmas could be. I’ve been going through the motions, decorating a tree every year and buying presents because that’s the thing that people are supposed to do at Christmas.

This is the first time in a long time I’ve been excited to decorate a tree. It smells so good, and it’s the prettiest tree at the lot, even it some of the branches are crooked and there’s a spot in the back. It has character, and I love it. I loved listening to papa tell all the stories about his ornaments, and I love the ones he picked out for both of us because it’s like I’m in his stories too. Is it selfish to like knowing that he thinks about me?”

"I don’t think that’s selfish at all. I would be disappointed if I thought you didn’t think of me, when you were at school or other places. Why should it be any different for you?" The Christmas lights reflected off his ring when her papa stroked her cheek like a single light he’d caught just for her.

"I do, papa. I think of you when I’m in class and something happens that I want to tell you about, or when I’m walking and I wish that you were there holding my hand, or on nights when I’m at dad’s house." Those nights were becoming rarer; sometimes she stayed with papa two or three nights in a row. "Do you want to know what I asked Santa to bring?"

"I’d love to hear it." 

"My papa spoils me; you don’t have to bring me anything at all. But I do like things that my papa and I can share; a book of stories we can read together, bubble bath that smells like vanilla or lemons because papa likes to smell my skin, and maybe some toys that papa and I can play with together. And something special for papa to make him smile, because that’s my favorite thing of all. I wish I knew how to make papa smile all the time."

"I already have the thing that makes me smile the most, little one. Santa couldn’t bring me a second Belle because only one exists and I already have her." He took the letter from her, tucking it into his inside jacket pocket.

"I wasn’t done with it yet, papa." She hadn’t asked for anything for her dad, though she didn’t know what to ask for. She was trying not to be angry at him, and thinking of a Christmas present had been one way she was trying to forgive him for the tree lot the week before. She also wanted to ask for an atlas, so she could plan out trips that she and papa could take someday.

"Some things should be a surprise, my dear. I’ll make sure to give Santa my suggestions as well." He held out his hand to her; she took the invitation and climbed up on his lap.

"No coal though, right papa?" She giggled as she settled onto his leg.

"Not for my good little girl."


	14. Finals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finals week

Papa never came to her apartment. Sometimes they met places, like the movie theatre or his shop, but more often his home was their place. When she really thought about it the two story pink house was more of a home to her than the one room apartment she rented above the library. Her apartment was for sleep and studying.

"Papa?" She’d been so lost in the paper she was writing that she almost hadn’t answered the door. From the frown on her papa’s face it had already taken her too long.

"You’re not answering your mobile."   
"I’m sorry." She was halfway to her room, to find her phone and see just how long it had been since she’d checked it when she realized what a mess her place was. "Oh god you can’t be here. You can’t see my room like… it’s not usually like this. I keep it clean most of the time it’s just right now I…"

"Belle, sit down."

"I can’t, I have to…"

"Sit." His voice was not loud, it almost never was. He didn’t need to raise his voice, not with that tone.

"Yes papa." When she sat on the sofa he sat right next to her.

"How many hours did you sleep last night?" His fingers were on the back of her neck, slowly moving.

"I took a nap this afternoon." She’d slept half an hour, and the lost time had frustrated her.

"You don’t want to answer me because you think I’m going to be disappointed. I am, but I’m worried as well. You need sleep, little one." He pulled her onto his lap. 

"My finals…"

"Can wait for an hour. Close your eyes, Belle. And tonight you’re going to get a full night’s sleep."

"Yes, papa."


	15. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can't seem to get warm

“Is there someone we can call for you?” Belle barely noticed the people around her as she stared at her cell phone. Her lifeline.

“Belle, can you look at me? If there’s someone we can contact for you, let us know.” The light when she looked up was bright enough that she closed her eyes. It wasn’t until she opened them again that she realized it was a penlight, and not just the sun.

“I called Papa.” She’d dialed 911 first, because she knew it was necessary. Even as they told her to stay on the line, though, she’d hung up and made the one call she needed most. There was only one person she needed.

“We’re going to have a second ambulance for you soon. If it comes before your father someone here will redirect him.” She had the vague understanding that there was a blanket being wrapped around her, but she couldn’t seem to feel it. She didn’t feel anything but the cold.

“Not my father.” He’d be useless here. She didn’t want to see him, not when she knew that he hated hospitals and would be more of a distraction than a help.

“Can you tell me who the President is right now, Belle?” Everything around her was a blur; she had to focus on what she was being asked.

“Obama,” she answered. She answered questions about the time of year as well. Only a few weeks until Christmas.

Whoever had been in the car probably wouldn’t be celebrating the holiday. They might not make it through the day.

“Belle.” The paramedic still spoke to her, but Belle only heard one voice. She didn’t notice the sirens or the flashing lights. She didn’t feel anything except for knowing she needed him to come closer.

“Papa.” She didn’t trust her legs enough to stand. Honestly she didn’t remember that she had legs; she felt as frozen as a statue. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe, little one. I’m here.” Arms wrapped around her, strong arms that anchored her. Belle began to shake. She might never have seen him again. The car had been coming so fast, and if she hadn’t tripped as she’d tried to run and rolled into the ditch she could have been hit. If the car had rolled right instead of left she would have been crushed.

“Cold,” she whispered. She wanted to tell him how scared she was. She wanted to ask about the driver of the car. She wanted to know why they were making her go to the hospital and to beg papa not to leave her alone. ‘Cold’ was the only word she managed to form.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” His eyes were so brown. Warm, like she wished she could be. “I’m going to make sure you get warm, and I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of by the best doctors. You don’t have to worry about anything, Belle. You have me.”

“I was scared.” She felt dampness on her cheeks, but could not understand where it came from. She tasted salt on her tongue and didn’t understand that either.

“Of course you were, my brave girl. But you’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”


	16. Going to the Zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and her papa and a day trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this months ago, but apparently never posted it here

“What do you think, little one?” He held her hand; she was always careful to walk on his left side. She didn’t even think about it anymore.

“I want to see the elephants first. No, the lions. The giraffes.” Belle bit her lip; there were too many choices, and she wanted to see everything at once. She remembered a zoo trip once, when she’d been in elementary school, but that had been years ago. This was her first time seeing the zoo as an adult. It was also her first all day trip with her papa. They’d gone out to dinner, or walks in the park, but this morning he’d surprised her with his plans.

“They’re feeding the lions at one, sweetheart. Why don’t we wait until there to see them?” her papa suggested. Belle nodded her head, and let him lead the way to the elephants. 

II

“That one’s the troublemaker.” Belle leaned on the rail of the meerkat exhibit and pointed to one of the animals standing on the rock. Many of the others were sleeping but a few others stood as well.

“Does he have a reason for causing trouble?” Gold stood beside her, but he did not lean. He rarely did. He was observing the animals but spending just as much time looking at her. His girl read a great deal of stories, and sometimes liked to spin one of her own.

“He’s a teenager in meerkat years, it’s his job to rebel. That one in the back, he’s the poor kid that doesn’t really want to hang out on the very edge, but he’s trying to fit in with the other meerkats.” Gold could well imagine that if the railing was not there she would try to reach out and pick up the little thing, figuring that it needed a cuddle.

“What would be a good name for that one? Belle, perhaps?” He probed at her story for a deeper meaning, always trying to learn more about her. Sometimes, he knew, it was easier to speak of things if there was a way to dissociate from them.

“No, Belle Kat is down in the burrow, reading a book. She sneaks out at night when the others are sleeping and finds newspapers and things people have dropped, and hides them away.” She kissed his cheek, giggling a little. “I never tried to be a part of the group.”

“You’re where you belong now, sweetheart.”

II

“Look at his muscles.” The lion raced across the enclosure in seconds, the power of the creature evident as it moved. Right behind were three other lions, but it was clear which one was the leader. None of them would have dared race past him. He was the first to catch a piece of meat as it was tossed by the zoo keeper, the others waiting.

“Not an animal I’d like to meet without a nice amount of distance between us. I can’t imagine he’d stop to listen to reason or make a deal if he was hungry.” A slight breeze blew, and for a moment Belle thought that his hair was not unlike a lion’s mane.

“I would protect you from him, papa.” She did not think about it as she rested her head on his shoulder. His hand settled on her hip as he pulled her closer.

“Who would protect you, little one? I would be very upset, you know, if you were eaten by a lion.” He smiled down at her, teasing. And yet not completely. She knew that he really would be upset if anything happened to her.

“I’ll distract him with a hula dance and he’ll forget about eating me,” she promised.

II

“My feet hurt and my tummy’s upset. Can we sit, papa?” She’d had too much sugar, probably. Papa had let her have ice cream and a cherry icee, plus they’d both had burgers and fries.

“We’re almost to the monkeys, and I’m sure there’s a bench there. Perhaps we should find you some water first.” His step was a little slower, and Belle was sure she wasn’t the only one with sore feet. Hopefully when they got home she could talk him into letting her massage his muscles.

“Can we sit first?” She was glad when he nodded, and the found a bench under a tree just a few feet from the island of monkeys swinging in the trees. It would have been nice to curl up in his lap, like she would have had they been home, but she contented herself with resting her head against his arm and twining their hands together. She was half asleep, lulled by the rhythmic motions of the monkeys swinging from the branches when someone near them muttered “old enough to be her father” and another voice answered with “midlife crisis.” Belle’s eyes narrowed.

“They don’t matter, little one. Don’t give them any power.” Papa squeezed her hand.

“They’re just jealous that you’re mine,” Belle decided. She couldn’t help looking over her shoulder and glaring at them, though.

“Too many people in the world would rather mock what other people have than risk going after what they want.” He waved a dismissive hand in their direction. “Look over there, I think one of the monkeys is trying to talk to you, baby. Why don’t you see what he has to say.”

“Ooo-ooo?” Belle asked with her best monkey impression, feeling warm and happy when she was able to make papa smile. She felt even better when he lifted her chin and kissed her still puckered mouth.

II

“Feel how soft, papa.” Belle picked up a stuffed elephant from the shelf, rubbing the fur against her cheek, closing her eyes to enjoy the sensation. He couldn’t resist stroking her other cheek.

“Would you like to pick out one to take home, darling?” He liked the idea of her having a physical reminder of the day that had been so pleasant.

“But you already paid for the tickets and lunch and snacks and everything. You don’t have to get me anything.” She carefully returned the animal to the shelf.

“I don’t have to, but I want to get it for you. I like to spoil my girl.” He could easily picture her holding a stuffed animal to her chest the same way she often held a book. 

“Thank you.” Her arms wrapped tight around his neck, hugging him tight before running back to the stuffed animals and spending fifteen minutes deliberating between alligators and giraffes, flamingos and pandas. Finally she decided on a lion.

“Do you need a bag?” the cashier asked.

“No, thank you.” Belle did ask for the tags to be cut off, though, before carrying the toy from the store.

“Simba?” Gold guessed as they walked to the car.

“Courage,” Belle answered as she hugged her friend. Gold nodded. It was a good name.


	17. Play Party #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and her papa go to a play party. Belle meets a friend.

Belle smoothed the front of her skirt, even though it hadn’t wrinkled on the drive over. She might have fussed more, except that her papa opened the car door.

"You look perfect, little one." He held out a hand to her, which she gladly accepted. The sun was setting, and she was glad of the support when she stepped carefully on the ground that was still damp from the rain earlier in the day.  
"And you look handsome." His tie was perfectly knotted, of course, but she ran her fingers over the silk. When he smiled she kissed his cheek. "Thank you for this, papa. It’s been almost like Christmas, waiting for tonight."

"Nervous?" he asked as she rested a hand on her stomach.

"A little." She’d read books and blogs, but other than her papa had never met anyone who shared their lifestyle. It was both exciting and nerve wracking to think that they were about to walk into a house where everyone would know that she and papa were together. No one in her life knew that she was a little to her papa. That was about to change.

"Your safe word works here as well, sweetheart. You only have to let me know, and we’ll leave whenever you’re ready." He cradled her face, only looking at her until she’d relaxed and her hand fell to her side. And then he kissed her, his lips gentle but the light touch of his tongue holding a promise of more to come later.

"You can say if you’re ready to go too." She did not look at his leg, or mention it. But she hoped he understood. It didn’t seem to be a bad day, but she worried about him.

Her papa nodded. ”We have a mutual deal.”

"A deal," Belle agreed, holding his hand as they walked up to the door. The man who answered almost immediately after her papa’s knock looked like he could easily be a professor at her school or a doctor. He wore a sports coat and vest, with a pocket watch in one pocket. His red hair and joyous grin made it harder to guess his age.

"Gold. You came." Belle was certain the man had to restrain himself from hugging her papa. His hand shake was enthusiastic enough. "Glad to have you hear."

"Thank you, Archie. Belle, this is our host Archie. Archie, this is Belle."

"May I?" Archie looked at her papa first. When he nodded Archie looked at her. Belle, trusting her papa, nodded as well.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Belle." Archie hugged her, a warm and gentle hug unlike few she’d experienced outside of her relationship with her papa. It made her smile.

"I’m glad to meet you too, Archie. Thank you for inviting us." There was something soft playing in the background as they walked into the house. To their right there was a fire in the living room fireplace with a few couples sitting around. To their left were two flights of stairs.

"It’s been too long since Gold’s been here for a party. I’m glad you got him to come. I need to go check on something briefly, but there’s food in the kitchen. Bedrooms are upstairs and the dungeon’s downstairs, though if I remember correctly that’s not really your scene, Gold. The second bedroom might be more your taste if the two of you decide on some private time. That’s Leroy on the couch. Leroy, this is Gold and Belle." After the whirlwind of information Archie was gone.

"Newbies, huh?" The man on the couch seemed to be at odds with the woman at his side. He wore flannel, a thick beard and a something just shy of a scowl. She smiled and wore a dress of pale pink. Her makeup sparkled. "Archie already told you I’m Leroy. This is my fairy princess Nova."

"Hi." Nova waved. "Want me to show you where to get something to drink? There’s cider that will help you warm up."

"Please." Belle squeezed her papa’s hand. He squeezed back.

"I’ll be right back, daddy," Nova promised. Leroy almost smiled as she hopped off in the direction of the kitchen. It was a warm and spacious room, though it didn’t give the impression that much actual cooking was done there. A crock held a few spoons, none of them stained or burned. There weren’t any appliances out on the counter except for a stainless steel urn. Nova used it to fill a cup with cider. "This is the one for littles, unless your daddy lets you drink. The other one has brandy."

"Cider sounds good." She didn’t have any rules about drinking, only about getting drunk, but it was a new place and she wanted to be aware. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome, Belle. I’m going to go play downstairs now, but I’m glad you came. It’s fun to know people in the lifestyle." Nova didn’t seem to do anything without skipping or spinning. It was hard to picture her in a dungeon. Then again it was hard to imagine a dungeon, exactly. Maybe she’d ask her papa more questions about it.

"Oh fishtales." Belle, caught up in her thoughts, didn’t realize there was another person in the room. A redheaded person, with cider now dripping all over her shirt.

"Did it burn you?" Belle couldn’t see a towel, but grabbed a handful of napkins.

"No, it was cool already. Now, though, it’s going to be a sticky mess. And not the good kind of sticky mess." The woman shook her head as she blotted at the liquid. "It’s a good thing Archie has robes in the bathrooms, but I’m worried about it staining."

"They always recommend club soda in movies." Belle opened up the fridge to see if Archie had any. He did, but not much else. "There’s robes that anyone can wear?"

"Sure. Other that Archie’s room anything here is fair game, as long as you follow the rules. Robes are there for anyone who wants to wear one after a shower. Or when they’re big fat klutzes that spill on themselves. I’m Ariel, by the way. I don’t think I said that yet." Ariel accepted the club soda and threw the napkins in the trash.

"I’m Belle and you’re not a klutz. It happens to people all the time. I used to call myself a klutz too but papa doesn’t like it. He wants me to talk positively about myself. I could help you get cleaned up," she offered.

"He sounds like a good guy." Ariel led her way to a bathroom that was well stocked with towels and the promised robes. Three of them, hanging on hooks next to the shower.

"He’s the first papa I’ve had, but I can’t imagine better. I’ve had boyfriends before, but not a dom. With papa…"

"It fits, right? Like what you’ve been looking for?" Ariel pulled her shirt over her head, then her bra, and ran the water until it was warm before using a cloth to clean her skin. "It’s like you weren’t just looking for a relationship, but a world where you could belong."

"It’s just like that." Belle leaned back against the shower. She loved showing with her papa, but wasn’t sure what it would be like, knowing that there were other people in the house. This wasn’t like any party she’d imagined. "Is your daddy here?"

Ariel paused and looked at Belle through the mirror. ”No, Daddy Eric went away on a long trip. Maybe I’ll see him when he returns, but officially we don’t have a commitment. I guess you could say I’m a free agent.”

"Free agent?" Belle was startled enough to ask.

"Sometimes I just come because it’s comfortable being in a place where people don’t judge me for who I am. Sometimes there’s someone here who wants a third. Or someone else comes stag. Archie knows everyone, so it’s a safe place to have a one night if that’s what you’re in the mood for. Getting into little space takes some of the pressure off. I’m not ready to look for a full time Daddy, but there’s nights when I need something." Ariel used the hook where her robe had been to hang up the shirt and bra.

"I’ve never gotten to do this." Belle tilted her head to one side. "Talk to another Little. Do you have plans for tonight or…"

"My plans, I think, are to talk with you, Belle. What if we get some more cider, and I won’t spill it on myself, and we can talk."

"I’d like that." Belle and Ariel found a corner in the kitchen, and spent an hour talking before her papa came in to find her.

"Sweetheart?"

"Papa." Belle looked up to receive a kiss on her forehead. "This is Ariel."

"Hello Ariel."

"She’s my friend." It had only been an hour, but it didn’t matter. Belle knew it was true. And it felt good.


	18. Inturruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and her papa at work.

"Be careful, little one." He offered her a hand as she climbed up the step ladder to reach the top shelf. When he handed her the vase to put up his hands slid to her waist to keep her steady. 

"Is there anything else you need up here?" She’d come to the shop to keep him company, but when she’d realized that he’d meant to climb the ladder she’d asked to be the one to do it. Her papa wasn’t every good at asking for help.

"If you give me a moment I might be able to think of something. This puts you at a rather interesting height, and I think I might like to appreciate it a little longer." Belle looked down at her papa. Being up on the steps, she realized, meant that her skirt was directly in front of his face.  
"You don’t need an excuse, papa." She couldn’t resist wiggling her hips a little, the skirt swaying with the movement.

"Minx." His hands moved from her hips to her thighs, sliding up to the edge of her stockings. "Do you have any homework you should be working on?"

"I finished everything while you were working on that locket." He’d given her use of the desk in the back office but she’d preferred to sit at one of his counters where she could watch him sometimes. His hands when they worked on such delicate items were so gentle. He was that gentle with her, sometimes. Not all the time, though.

"Are you wearing panties?" he asked, his fingers not quite ticklish as he ran a thumb over the skin just above her stockings.

"Not today, papa." It was one thing when she had to go out places, but her only plans for the day were papa’s shop and papa’s house. "Want to see?"

"I do, sweetheart." It was nice that the back room didn’t have windows, and there was no one to peek when she raised her skirt to her waist. "Beautiful. Do you think you can turn and face me?"

"Will you hold my hand?" He did, of course, helping her to make a half circle.

"Pretty as a picture." He looked at her, staying a step back. Memorizing her, it seemed.

"Papa, I…"

"Yes, sweetheart?" he asked when she stopped.

"I want you to touch me. Please?" She stared at his hands, knowing just what his fingers could do to her. Itching to feel more than a light touch to her legs. "We never have, here at your shop, but this is the first place I ever saw you."

"I didn’t know how lucky I was, that day you walked through the door." He rested two fingers on her pubic bone. "Spread your legs as much as you can on the step, sweetheart. You have to tell me if you don’t feel steady, though."

"I feel fine right now," she promised. Her hands rested against her belly, holding the bundled up fabric of her skirt. She watched his fingers move, seeing them slide into her before she felt them.

"You feel wet right now too." The corner of his mouth quirked up as he tilted his head to one side. "So wet for your papa. What are you thinking about right now?"

"I was imagining you asking me to bend over the ladder while you…"

"Hello?" The bell above the outer door rang only a moment before the voice called out. There was someone in the shop.

"Hopper. His time isn’t usually quite so terrible." Her papa sighed as he reluctantly removed his fingers. Belle couldn’t look away as he licked both fingers clean rather than dry them off on a cloth. "Come on down, sweetheart. I don’t want you up there if I’m not in the room."

"May I come say hi to Archie?" They’d met three times now, and she liked the odd gentleman that seemed to enjoy his parties more for himself than his guests.

"Certainly." They both walked out to the counter.

"Gold. Belle, what a pleasure to see you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here, but it’s prefect since I’ve come to invite you to a party." Archie wore one of his usual sweater vests and a tweed jacket. Belle had not been at all surprised to learn that he was a college professor; he looked like he was born to fit the role.

"We just attended a party of yours last week," Gold pointed out. They both faced Archie, a counter between them. Her papa’s hand was on her waist, for a moment, but he moved it down to cup her ass. And down farther, his hand warm against her thigh.

"A very nice party." Belle could feel her cheeks grow warm, though she wasn’t sure if that was because of the fact that she knew Archie had watched last week when she’d sat on her papa’s lap and he’d fingered her in a way that it wasn’t difficult to know what he was doing despite, or the fact that her papa’s hand was even now under her skirt. It seemed like he intended to continue what they’d been doing.

"Which is why I wanted you both to come to the party in two weeks. This coming week is Thanksgiving, and there’s no party, but the week after is the annual Vanilla and Spice Christmas party. Everyone brings two small gifts. One can be anything, and the other is something sexual in nature. There’s a big exchange." Archie looked excited, and Belle tried to listen but her papa had found her clit and was rubbing small circles around it.

"An interesting idea, I’m sure. I wonder if anyone mixes up which gift is which?" Her papa spoke calmly, not looking at her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she could feel him she wouldn’t have known from looking at him that he was anything but focused on the guest.

"There was one year when the theme was kitchen gadgets, and it was hard to tell, honestly. I remember one lemon reamer in particular, well let’s just say I don’t think it ever got used on citrus." Archie laughed, but not loud enough to cover Belle’s surprised exclamation when her papa’s curved fingers found her g spot. She gripped the counter hard and barely managed to stand straight.

"Are you alright, little one?" her papa asked, looking at her for the first time since Archie had come in. He looked mildly concerned but Belle knew that look in his eyes. He was pleased with himself.

"Just picturing a lemon reamer," Belle covered carefully. "Is there a theme this year, Archie?"

"Chocolate, but it doesn’t have to be food. You can use it however you chose to interpret the theme, and it only has to apply to one gift." Archie smiled. "Though it certainly can be chocolate. It’s pretty universally enjoyed."

"Yes it is. You like chocolate, don’t you sweetheart?" Her papa leaned closer, dropping his voice. "Don’t come until I say."

"Yes, papa." Belle answered both the question and the order.

"Thank you, Archie, for the invitation. We will have to do some shopping." His fingers inside of her moved at a slow and steady pace. Belle had to fight to keep her eyes open and not just let herself feel his touch.

"I’m glad you’re coming. Both of you. It’s been good to meet you, Belle, and to reestablish the connection, Gold." Archie nodded. "I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope. If not than at the Christmas party."

"We look forward to _coming_ ,” Gold answered. He waited until the bell rang again over the door before looking down at her. ”Won’t we, sweetheart?”

"Please papa?" She’d had to fight it, while Archie was still standing in front of her. "Now?"

"I rather like the visual of you bent over the ladder, as you mentioned earlier. I want you just like that. But first come for me right here. You would have with Archie watching, if I had let you, would’t you my Belle?"

"I’ve never thought about it before, not until Archie’s parties. But there’s something arousing about being watched like that, isn’t there?" She turned, reaching up to hold his shoulder. "I can’t tell many people about you. I like that there’s people who can know how good you make me feel."

"Let me make you feel good right now." His finger against her clit moved with the ones inside of her. The shout almost echoed in the room when she came. He held her close until she was able to walk to the back room with him. 

The ladder, it turned out, worked rather well.


End file.
